Lovesong
by Rose Malmaison
Summary: "He's in love with a friend, saves his life and changes it forever." Tony and Jethro find that, despite their injuries, or perhaps because of them, their love has grown stronger. Slash, Gibbs/DiNozzo, short story, 1-shot, disability, TBI, established relationship. Part of the April 2018 Five Prompts Challenge at ncis-discuss at LJ.


April Five Prompts Challenge  
(Monthly set of prompts can be found at ncis-discuss at LJ, You can interpret them how you wish, any length, any media.)  
Prompt: He's in love with a friend, saves his life and changes it forever.

 _Lovesong  
by The Cure  
_ _Whenever I'm alon_ _e with you  
_ _You make me feel like I am home again.  
_ _Whenever I'm alone with you  
_ _You make me feel like I am whole again._

They say that if you save someone's life, you are forever responsible for them. But it works both ways; if you aren't able to save them, isn't their death or injury your responsibility? Jethro didn't believe in scoreboards, but he was well aware Tony had saved his life many times. Jethro had done the same for Tony. It was part of the job. They were seasoned agents, officers of the law. They expected it, _accepted_ it. Until, one day, when safeguards failed, fate intervened – they messed up – and his life, _their_ lives were turned upside down.

Now, sitting on the couch with a fire warming the room, and Tony asleep against his side, Jethro reminded himself how damned lucky he was. He smiled down at the man he loved and hugged him a little tighter. Tony mumbled something, moving restlessly, but soon settled against his chest. Jethro gently brushed the hair off Tony's forehead and laid a kiss near the scar on his temple. It didn't look like much, a one-inch mark, darker than his normal skin tone. Most people wouldn't even notice it. Just the same, it reminded him how much one little piece of lead had impacted their lives, for better and for worse.

Tony hadn't been the only one hurt that day. Jethro had taken a bullet to the abdomen and another to the leg. He'd lost a section of his intestines and his knee would never be the same, but at least he was alive. Amazingly, they both were.

Jethro remembered the warehouse, shooting at those men, and being hit. He went down, screaming, and Tony jumped out from behind cover to come to his aide. That's when Tony took a bullet to the head. They told him he'd dragged Tony out of the line of fire, despite his serious injuries. Jethro didn't remember much about what happened next, except he remembered believing Tony was dead. He still had nightmares about it.

One of the logs in the fireplace settled and sparks flew up the chimney. Jethro considered getting up to put another piece of wood on, but decided against it. It was late and his knee was acting up. The latest surgery had been difficult, and he was still getting his strength back. It seemed that every time he was hurt it took longer than the previous time to recuperate fully. Jethro sighed. Getting a sleepy Tony off the couch and upstairs to bed was going to be difficult. It was always hard to rouse the younger man, but he'd be in pain the next day if he didn't sleep on a firm mattress.

Tony had had a busy day, swimming and physical therapy, and then helping him make dinner. He'd chatted with Abby on that Skype thing for half an hour as part of his therapy. He loved it but it drained him as much as the physical exercises. Tony had collapsed on the couch as soon as the meal was over, so Jethro had built a fire and joined him. They'd watched one of those old movies Tony liked, the black-and-white ones with make-believe New England landscapes covered in fake snow. But, as usual, Tony hadn't been able to concentrate for long; he'd lost interest, closed his eyes, and snuggled up to Jethro.

Jethro didn't mind, not at all. For him, being able to sit here peacefully with Tony in his arms was the best gift ever. Regret and sadness were not part of his world, nor Tony's. They lived in the present. The past was too painful, and they'd crossed too many hurdles to waste time looking back.

He looked at Tony's sleeping face, with its slightly sad expression. Not for the first time, Jethro wondered how Tony saw himself in his dreams. Was he whole in them, fit and strong like he used to be? Did he run fast and drive sleek cars? Was he smart and funny and oh-so-annoying? Jethro snorted softly. Tony might have an uneven gait these days – Abby described it as being more like a sexy stroll – but his smiles and laughter hadn't changed a bit. So what if Tony wasn't quite as quick with a joke? And if he was annoying it was unintentional.

It was as if the worst of their characters had been stripped away by the shooting. Jethro was a whole hell of a lot more patient, and he, too, smiled easily these days. Tony didn't seem to care what anyone thought of him, and was just as content to sit quietly as he was to do something active. He'd taken up yoga and looked as lean and handsome as when Jethro had first met him, a good ten years ago. Tony often struggled to find the right word, and was sometimes forgetful, but he seemed happy, and that was all Jethro cared about.

"Time for bed." Jethro gave Tony a gentle shake, and got him to his feet. They stood facing each other, pretending they were hugging and not holding each other upright. Jethro's knee didn't always support his weight, especially after he'd been sitting for any length of time. He'd taken off his brace earlier, and had left it upstairs, which he now realized was stupid.

Tony noticed and didn't hesitate to remind him. "Where's your brace?"

"Upstairs. My knee felt okay so I took it off." Tony raised an eyebrow at him so Jethro said, "All right, so I should've left it on."

Tony held Jethro tighter. "I'll help you. You're getting old."

"Who're you calling old?" Jethro asked, scowling.

"You. Me, too," Tony said truthfully. He softened his words with a fond smile.

"I think we're doing okay," Jethro replied. His fifty-fifth birthday was coming up, too fast, and Tony had just turned forty-one. If Jethro had still been at NCIS, he would be forced to retire as a field agent this year. He missed it, some aspects of it anyway, but leaving the job hadn't been half as difficult as he'd anticipated. Everyone who mattered understood he was taking on the responsibility of Tony's care.

Their closest friends were aware he and Tony had been partners, lovers, for years. They'd had their ups and downs, even broke up a couple of times, but they'd always come back to each other. That was before. Before the shooting. Now, a year-and-a-half later, after surviving all the pain and worry, as well as a bucket-load of tears, they were closer than ever. Their focus had changed due to their physical disabilities and the challenges of living with a TBI, but their love for each other had grown stronger.

"Your knee doesn't work. My brain…snaps fire," Tony pointed out. He blinked a few times, knowing he'd spoken the wrong words.

Before he could get upset, Jethro suggested, "Synapses not firing?"

Instead of getting all tied up over his mistake, Tony smiled. "Yeah, that one."

"I think all your synapses are firing just fine." Jethro knew that Tony took most things literally, but he seemed to get his point. "But yeah, my knee is crap."

Tony extricated himself from Jethro's arms. "I'll help you, Jethro." He took Jethro's arm, guiding him to the stairs at a slow pace while Jethro limped along beside him.

"Thanks. I can always count on you, Tony."

Tony gave him of those brilliant smiles that always did funny things to Jethro's heart. "You help me all the time."

"You're a good man, and I love you, Tony."

Tony didn't reply. He was concentrating in negotiating the stairs, but when they arrived safely on the landing, he stopped and looked directly at Jethro, his expression serious. "I love you. I love living with you, and sleeping in our bed together. I know what you've done for me, Jethro. You saved me. Every day. I loved you a long time ago but now it's more. More love."

Jethro leaned over and kissed Tony, keeping one hand on the wall for balance.

Tony melted into the kiss, moaning happily. When their lips parted, he sighed. "Okay, can we make love now?"

Jethro couldn't help laughing. "Yes, we can make love now," he said, and before he'd even finished, Tony was pulling him into their bedroom.

After a brief struggle with his clothes, Tony was naked and standing by the bed. The determined look on his face told Jethro who was going to be on top that night, and he knew it wasn't gonna be him. That was okay though. Sometimes Tony needed it.

Jethro limped across the bedroom, and as soon as he was within reach, Tony impatiently started to undress him. Jethro laughed when his shirt got stuck halfway over his head, with Tony yanking at it. They lay on the bed, and Jethro caressed his lover's silky skin, fingers skimming lightly over scars from years on the job – this one from a knife, that one from a bullet. He moaned when Tony sucked on his neck, and gasped when Tony entered him, way too slowly. Jethro clutched at his back and begged, "More. Harder." They moved together, arching and thrusting, point and counter-point, sharing long, deep kisses, aching with pleasure and need, and when they came, almost at the same time, Jethro cried out and shuddered and clung to Tony just as he had back in that warehouse. Only this time, instead of being blinded by pain and fear, he was consumed with love. "Tony!" he cried, his voice shaking.

Tony collapsed on top of him, hugging him hard, as if he was somehow afraid he'd lose him. He whispered in Jethro's ear, "I'm here, don't be afraid."

"I know. I know," Jethro said, his voice husky with emotion. They stayed like that until Tony shifted and his cock slipped out, and even then he didn't go far.

"You're my everything, and I need you," Tony said, moving so Jethro spooned against his back.

"Sappy."

"You love it."

Jethro chuckled. "Yeah, I guess I do. I need you, too. What's more I love you. More. More love," he said, repeating what Tony had said earlier. And he did, more than he could have ever imagined.

*** the end ***


End file.
